


Alone

by InsaneNerdGirl



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Philharmonic - Freeform, Philinda - Freeform, Philinda romance if you squint, all of the characters except for Coulson and May are just mentions, bonus mention of Clintasha, mentions of most of the rest of the Bus Team, no really this was painful to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 22:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneNerdGirl/pseuds/InsaneNerdGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>GH-325 is slowly undoing itself, and Coulson faces his own death once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> So this was actually inspired by a message from my Philinda Secret Summer friend, where she asked me how May/Coulson would react if his scar opened up again.
> 
> i'm sorry.  
> i'm so so sorry.
> 
> Also this was written at 5am and i haven't even gone to bed yet (i see to do that a lot) so please forgive any errors.
> 
> Please leave comments/kudos and let me know how i did.

Coulson entered May’s cockpit. Their last mission had been hard and a bit tiring and he needed to talk to her about it.

“Hey,” he said as he entered. A tired smile crossed her face as she activated the autopilot and turned to face him. She had a gash on her cheek from an unexpected knife fight when she and the girls had gotten separated from him and Trip, but otherwise looked normal. “Are you okay?” she asked.

He sighed. “No… not really.”

She sat quietly, just watching him, eyes inviting him to clarify.

“I’m tired of it all,” he finally confessed. “You would think that… that coming back from the dead… that all of these strange thoughts in my head… you’d think it would make me see everything in a new light, and I’d appreciate things more. But really, it’s doing the exact opposite. All I want is to leave all of this behind and be with Audrey.”

He looked intently into her eyes. “Am I crazy for that?”

She smiled sadly. “No, Phil. You got a second chance on life, and now everything around you is too strange. You don’t want to waste your second chance…” she paused, worry in her dark eyes.

“What?” he asked, surprised.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, concerned, getting up and taking a step closer to him.

He glanced down at himself and the surprised “no” died at his lips. Blood was seeping through his shirt.

May’s eyes met his again, and he knew they were both thinking the same thing. Carefully she reached out and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. He looked away, not wanting to see what they both knew they would.

His scar had opened up and was bleeding.

The GH-325 serum was undoing itself.

He pulled away from her and walked out of the cockpit.

 

She found him again, not ten minutes later. He had gone to the medbay to put some salve on his re-opened wound, but his trembling fingers could barely open the tin.

How could this be happening?

Was he going to die again, right after getting a new lease on life? Was all of the pain and grief and fear he had suffered for nothing?

“Let me help,” her voice broke in through his thoughts. He hadn’t even heard her come in. She took the tin of salve from his still shaking fingers and set it on the counter, then took his hand in her own.

Her touch calmed him, and he drew a breath. “Melinda…” he looked at her, scared, uncertain. He almost looked childlike. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know, Phil,” she answered softly. No empty promises, no lies about how whatever was happening wasn’t really happening… just silent comfort.

A moment later she picked up the tin of salve and opened it. “You did this for me recently,” she said, as she gently spread the healing cream over his chest. “Remember?”

He nodded. “You’d gotten stabbed…” he commented.

His hand went over hers, still gently spreading the salve. She stilled and looked up from her task. “May… I don’t want to die again.”

A tender look entered her eyes and she placed her free hand on top of his, squeezing it gently. “Phil, I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she told him, “but whatever does happen, you won’t be alone.”

Coulson’s heart lurched within him and he nodded. “Thank you…” he said, releasing her hand and letting her continue her work.

 

He wanted to see Audrey. She thought he was still dead and it would be cruel to reveal that he wasn’t only to make her live through his potential death a second time… but he wanted to see her. His gentle Audrey… she had made life so sweet, maybe she could take the bitterness out of his current situation.

And so he found himself one night, not a week after discovering that the wound that had killed him was slowly reappearing, sitting with May in the back row for one of Audrey’s concerts. She looked so beautiful in her pink and blue dress. Her hair was curled and fell forward a bit as she played, framing her beautiful face just so, and her slender fingers deftly moved across the strings.

He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt May place a tissue in his hand. He swallowed tightly and looked at her, but she was looking towards the stage, seemingly wrapped in the performance. He took her hand in his and kissed it, and she turned towards him. “Thank you,” he whispered.

                                

That night he woke up screaming, calling for Audrey, as visions of that alien scepter piercing him wisped on the edge of his mind. May sat beside him, gently stroking his sweaty forehead. It had been her gentle touch that had rescued him from his nightmares. He turned and buried his face in her arm, chest still heaving with terror. “I don’t want to die again, May.” He whispered.

“I know Phil,” she said, gently stroking his hair, “but whatever happens, you won’t be alone.”

 

Two days later when he tried to stand, he fell with a whimper back into his chair. His hand convulsively reaching towards his chest as sharp pangs of agony shot through him. His chest heaved as he struggled to take a breath. May, who he had been discussing plans for the future of SHIELD with, was at his side in an instant. She took his hands in hers and squeezed gently. “It’s okay Phil…” she whispered as he leaned into her, eyes squeezed shut against the pain. “You aren’t alone.”

 

He had to tell the rest of the team… they deserved to know. It had gotten to the point where there was a constant dull pain in his chest which occasionally flared up to pure agony.

It probably wouldn’t be long now until he… no he couldn’t think about it. But at least, when it came, he wouldn’t be alone.

Simmons hadn’t been able to stop the tears from falling, but she put on a brave front for him, telling him she would study everything she had on GH-325 and see if she could stop this, but when Trip had put an arm around her she’d broken down and cried into his shoulder.

Skye had yelled, tears in her eyes, saying that it couldn’t be true. She couldn’t lose the closest thing she had to a father. She couldn’t lose her family!

It had been too much for her and she had run out of the room. Somehow that made it truly real for Coulson… his death wouldn’t just be him dying… it would be them losing him. He looked towards May who was just leaving the room, having followed Skye. Would she be okay after losing him a second time?

 

She was doing Tai-Chi when he approached her, walking unsteadily. He sat in a nearby chair and watched her, her normal perfectly fluid motions were sharper and tenser than they usually were. He had been so focused on his own impending death he hadn’t noticed how hard it was on her.

“May…” he said after a moment. “What will you do… after I’m gone?”

Her movements slowed and she looked at him, a questioning look in her eyes.

“You…” his voice caught in his throat, “You’re going to be okay, right? Maybe I’m sentimental… but I can’t die without knowing if you’ll be okay.”

She looked down and smiled a small pained smile. “I lived through it once before, Phil. At least this time… this time I can say goodbye.” She looked at him. “This time I can make sure you don’t die alone on the cold hard floor.”

 

The next day he collapsed as he walked out of his office, his heart thumping slowly and painfully against his ribs, blood seeping under the bandages he had been forced to wear for the past several weeks and through his shirt. “May…” he whispered frantically, swallowing hard.

Where was she?

He couldn’t be alone, he _couldn’t!_

He coughed weakly and tasted blood, and his vision blurred. “Melinda…” he called out again, still unable to speak louder than a whisper.

And then she was there, cradling him in her arms. “It’s okay, Phil…” she whispered gently. “You aren’t alone.”

“Thank you Melinda…” he whispered through the blood on his lips.

She nodded, and a ghost of a smile crossed her face. “It’s what I should have done the first time.”

It was getting harder to breathe, but he had to say one last thing to her.

“Melinda…” he whispered, praying that his heart would hold out long enough. “I don’t mind dying…” she took his hand and squeezed it, waiting for him to continue, leaning in close to catch his hoarse whisper. “I didn’t… realize before, but…” he was gasping for breath, barely able to continue, “I don’t mind… dying again… because this is _why_ … I got a second chance. It wasn’t so that I… I could change the world. It was so _I_ could say goodbye.”

He struggled to keep his eyes opened, struggled to look into her face one last time. “Thank you… Melinda.”

And then Phil Coulson’s heart stopped beating.

 

 

 

They were all there for the funeral, both Coulson’s new team and his old one. May stood alone in the back, stone-faced and quiet, listening as his friends and comrades from over the years stood and talked about how much he had meant to them. She wanted to speak… but didn’t trust her own voice.

Romanoff brushed her arm with one hand when she and Barton left, and he offered her a sympathetic smile, but her stony façade didn’t crack.

But when everybody else had gone, she knelt down beside the fresh mound of dirt. “I’m sorry, Phil,” she whispered, eyes finally filling with tears. “I should have saved you the first time, and I should have saved you this time…” her hands brushed aimlessly through the dirt. “I told you I would be okay… but I’m not.” She whispered. “You meant everything to me… and I couldn’t even protect you. I’m sorry…” She rose to her feet. “I’m just glad this time… you weren’t alone.”


End file.
